The Avengers Daughter
by Staci Young
Summary: 17 Year old Maggie knows who her father is. But she has never met him. When she is sought out by an undercover Shield agent, she travels to the past to try to prevent her Father's death, or at least meet him for the first time. She has no idea that meeting her father would throw her into a war.
1. Chapter 1

No one in this time knows I exist. How could they? I was warned by Nick Fury's son, Andrew, that even though my father would still be alive, he wouldn't know of me. He warned me I would have to prove who I was to them. To all of them. Perhaps having the shield will be some form of proof. I hope, for my sake that it is good enough. Facing these people would terrifying enough. But I reminded myself to be brave. To stand tall and not be afraid. It still doesn't cure the nervous trembling of my hands as I open the apartment building door. Brooklyn Estates. Number 307. I recite the number over again in my head. My heart pounds as I approach the front desk. I had never met the man. Considering I was still in my mother's stomach when he died. I don't know anything about him, other than that he was a former Avenger. We share the same DNA and last name. But besides that, I hardly know him. How was I going to prove to him that I was truly his daughter? Beyond a shadow of a doubt? I pondered this thought often before I made the journey to the past. But so far I have come up with no ideas. Perhaps it will just hit me once in standing in front of him. Otherwise, I'm SOL.

To my relief, there was no one behind the tiny desk, and the no one to answer the ringing phone that was becoming annoying each new ring. I had hoped there would be no one there, making it easier to sneak up to the apartment. How I was going to break in, I didn't know yet. I rushed to the elevator and quickly mashed the button. As I wait, I stare in the mirror at the end of the hall. Red hair. Blue eye. I know where I got the blue eyes from, but as for the red hair, I still don't know. Every time I asked my mother about it, she simply told me it must have skipped a generation. I had let it get too long, and longed to chop it off, but I decided against it at my younger sister's request. She loves to braid it for me at night. She and I share the same mother, but not father. After my father died, it took time for my mother to get over it. But finally remarried and had my sister when I was around five. Two years later they had my sister. I was so excited. So thrilled. I had never had a sister and to no longer be alone was wonderful. I regretted it though when she learned to walk. She had to touch everything that belonged to me. I would yell at her and make her cry, but despite the past, I love her dearly. Now she's ten and much easier to get along with. I miss her now, as I'm standing in a completely different place and time.

I suddenly hear footsteps as the desk clerk returns. With my quick thinking, I find the stairs and tread as lightly as I can to the base. I make my way stealthily, making sure to now make too much noise. What good would it be to get caught now? After making it this far? I reach the first level, then the second. I make it to the third. My breathing is normal. I never get out of breath. I had always been athletic and strong. Just like my father. She said I remind her of him constantly. I hate to be that kind of burden to her. But now that she has someone else, I don't worry about it as much. My sister however, can't keep up. She is slower and more prone to having to stop to take a break. I go through the third floor door and scan the hallway. I want to make sure no one sees me here. When the coast is clear, I sprint down the hall. I count the apartments. 301. 302. 303. I finally reach 307. Of course the door is locked.

Here it is. My mother's apartment. She had always told me she worked as a nurse. I couldn't believe it when Shield told me she worked for them. She had lied to me. I wonder what else I will find in this apartment. Right now, if Andrews's calculations are correct, she should be out for lunch with her friends right now. It was a Sunday. The only day of the week she had off. I still put my ear to the door, to listen for any signs of life beyond the door. I don't hear anything, and I am running out of time. I need to open the door without causing damage and fast. I reach into my pocket and find a hair pin. This will have to do. I take a deep breath, trying to relieve my nervousness, as I slide the pin into the keyhole. This isn't the first lock I have picked. I am rather good at it actually. I used to sneak into the high school at night with my friends. It was a small town and a small school, but we figured there wasn't much better to do. So we broke in. We never stole or damaged anything, we just used it as our hangout. There was no movie theater or bowling alley in town and the closest one was forty minutes away. None of us had a car, so we just walked to the school. I can remember just once, Jamie brought beer.

I wiggle the pin, urging it to work before someone finds me. I look down the hall, but there still is no one to be seen. I work for what seems like fifteen minutes before I finally hear the calming click of the lock. I almost laugh, surprised but relieved that it worked. I quickly open the door and slide into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. The living room is dark, except for the light trying to shine through the closed blinds. I use my cell phone as a light, not wanting to disturb anything. I remember my mother's old desk. She had bought it at a yard sale before she even met my father. It was where she kept everything important. If her pass was here, it would be in the desk. I shine the light around the apartment. On the beige couch, wooden side table with a small lamp. Across to the kitchen which was open. Everything was so clean and untouched. Almost as if she was never there. So different compared to now. She must have gave up cleaning after I turned two. I found it strange there were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets. Just neat furniture. I finally see it. The desk. The same one I sat at to do homework when I was younger. There is a small laptop sitting on it. Some papers. I search the drawers but only find more paper. Where was she hiding it? Was she really this secretive?

I close the drawer in defeat, beginning to panic as I wonder what to do now. I had been sure it would have been in the desk. I knew my mother. She was a creature of habit. Where was her pass? I stoup down to the ground looking underneath it. There was nothing. I look at my phone. 3:45. She would be back at four. I didn't have much time. Out of desperation I search the kitchen drawers. Nothing. I go back over to the desk. The desk chair was tucked neatly underneath. I pull it out, sit down and tears begin to seep from my eyes. I have failed. Everything was riding on me finding the pass. Ill have to leave soon. I begin to feel angry. Angry at myself for being stupid. Angry that I had gotten this far to only have the door slammed in my face. Angry at the stupid desk for not containing what I so desperately need. I slam my fist down onto the desk, hard. I barley hear the click of something underneath the desk where my legs are. I jump from the chair and I couldn't believe that my mother's pass for Shield headquarters was right there. Tucked in a hidden compartment under the desk. I wipe the tears away and grab the pass, stuffing it into my back pocket and covering it with the back of my shirt. As I begin to feel joy, I slowly push the chair back. I sprint to the door and open it, checking the hall. I lock it from the inside and close it. With the pass safely put away, I run back down the hall and down the stairs. The woman at the desk is still there. But I simply keep my head down as I walk past her. I open the door, and just as I begin to step through, my mother, her younger self, faces me as she enters the lobby. Her blonde hair pulled back and out of the way. She looked the same, but different. She doesn't know who I am though, and keeps walking past me and waves at the woman behind the desk. I stand still, I'm shock that I had just seen her. I begin to smile, to see her so young and happy. Free. I had only ever known her sadness. Her loss of my father. To see her like this was…weird. Remembering why I was there, I check to make sure the pass is still safe, and leave the apartment building into the streets, blending into the hundreds of other faces.


	2. Chapter 2

I have the pass. I have the pass. I keep reassuring myself as I walk toward the gates that surround Shield headquarters. They won't suspect anything. Just that my mother is the one who is signing in. But I still can't help but worry. Worry they will find me out. But I have to stay calm. I reach the gate where a small box with a screen and a sensor wait for me. I flash the pass. Holding it just an inch away. The box beeps and my mother's maiden name appears on the screen. Why they don't have guards out here I don't know. But I'm glad. They would know that I'm not my mother. The gate opens and I slide through the opening. I walk the trail that leads to the front doors. However this time there are two guards at the door, holding large and deadly rifles. Yay.

Now what? I can't run. They would shoot me down in a heartbeat. But one look at the picture on the pass and they would know that I had stolen it. I just keep walking forward. I smile, nervously. I'm not very good in these situations. Andrew didn't tell me there would be guards at the door. Luckily, they don't want to see the pass. They nod at the sight of one hanging around my neck and open the doors for me. I was so shocked that I smiled genuinely as I walked in. They must have figured the box on the gate wouldn't have let me in if I wasn't supposed to be there. I walk onto the tile floor, grey with the shield symbol painted in black. I can't believe that worked. But it did.

Andrew told me that the only thing I needed to know was to get to the stairs and go up to the second floor. There would be a door on the left that would lead to a file room. There I could get the information I needed to find my father. His address. His cell phone number. Anything I needed to know would be on a file. I just had to find it. I smile at two men behind the desk. Try to look like I am supposed to be here. I walk across the lobby and to the bottom of the stairs. Another woman is coming down them as I pass, but I keep my head low and start up to the file room. My heart was pounding again. I couldn't believe how close I was to meeting my father. Everything I needed to know was moments away from my fingertips. Still, I was scared. I was so close that it made me want to jump back to the safety of not knowing. It sounds silly, but I was scared he wouldn't want to speak to me. That is if he believes me to begin with. It does sound pretty crazy. Traveling back in time to meet my dead father. But assuming he believes me, would he want me? Of course he would. Just because I have never met him doesn't mean he wouldn't have wanted me if he was still alive in my time. He didn't even know I existed when it happened. The battle that is.

I only knew a couple of things about it. An alien race had invaded. Tried to kill anyone who resisted and most definitely tried to destroy the Avengers. Well, what used to be the Avengers. The team was dismantled after they saved the world from Thanos. Thought it was the end. That the world didn't need them anymore. They tried to live normal lives. My parents got married. Seems like some of the others did too. But their joy was short lived. The aliens invaded and in one of the fights, the Avengers tried to stop them. They succeeded, but at the cost of my father's life. He died trying to save them.

This solemn thought almost stops me in my tracks. But I continue up and through the door for the second floor file room. I scan the pass again, and gain access to row upon row of shelves. Each shelf with hundreds of manila folders stacked neatly. I wonder who had the time in such a busy government office to organize this stuff. Wouldn't it all be in the computer database by now? Maybe this was just backup. Each row has a letter, with the ones behind it following in alphabetical order. Would they have organized them by name? Or would everyone just be under "Avengers"? I checked the front row to be sure. When I find nothing under Avengers, I decide to find my father's individual file. He has to be in here somewhere. Somewhere in this mess of papers. I go back and back and with each row I pass a new set of lights illuminate above me as I walk. They must be censored. Programed to turn on as you walk under them. I finally reach the eighteenth row. The row itself it several yards long. How many files do they have here? Millions? Billions? Well it is a government office.

My finger follows along the edges of the files, looking for the name. Just one name that I need. I'm half way down the aisle when I finally find it. With a red tab on the end, I pull the folder free from its resting place. A shield symbol on the front. Do they have to put this symbol on everything? I open the folder and thumb through pages of boring words. Reports. Reports on everything that my father did while he was an Avenger. Did he write these himself? They seem to be in first person. As much as I would love to read them, I don't have all day. I continue through the files until I reach a picture. It was him. At least I think it was him. It must have been of when he was much younger. He seemed much smaller in this picture than what I had seen on TV. Scrawny. His blonde hair and blue eyes that reflected my own. It was him. I looked down the page, finding his name. The same name I had. Rogers. I run my fingers over the print. He seems real now. Not just a figment of my imagination. Not just the stories my mother would tell me about him. He was an actual person. I want to find him. I want to ask him questions. Get answers that my mother won't give me. Like what was his favorite food? Favorite place? What did he sound like? I'm so close. Days at most.

I search the page for an address, a phone number. Anything that would lead me to him. But before I get the chance, the alarms sound and I can hear the door slam open and a loud clatter as dozens, maybe a hundred armed shield agents storm the room. They fill every crack and crevasse, securing the room and blocking my path. I was trapped.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm led…no. Dragged. I'm dragged out of the file room. The two men who were guarding the door have me by my arms. Squeezing tightly. I don't know what to do. I have been caught. By shield none the less. I would never escape Shield. I start cussing at them. As if that will help anything. But they continue to drag me down a long corridor and into an elevator that takes us to an underground floor. Again they drag me down a long hall. The walls were shiny and pristine. Clean glass. I could see right through the walls into the rooms they contained. Some of the agents stop to stare at me. Pause momentarily to watch the show and suddenly resume their work. I look at each room as I pass. They all seem the same. Button up white shirt. Black pants. Ties for the men. Heel for the women. They all had guns. The hall seems to go on forever. I really can't see the end of it. I ask them where they are taking me. I get no answer though. A guard stands by the door of a glass room several yards away. We pass one last room of glass before the hall turns to concrete brick. White. I expect to see the same. Ties and heels. White and black clothes.

But what I see takes my breath away for the first time. I literally stop breathing. I can feel the blood draining from my face as we pass. I see the same blonde ponytail I saw yesterday as I left my mother's apartment. But when she turns around to face me, my father appears behind her. Nothing prepared me for the sight of him. The sight of his arms folded across his chest. He looks like a body builder. His sandy blonde hair is spiked at the top. As his blue eyes meet mine, it's like an invisible connection that had been severed was reattached. I could see the confusion and intrigue in his face was I went by. The same that was displaying on mine. He seems so handsome and young his self. Is this real? Am I really looking at him? My father? Is this a dream? The tight squeeze of the guards hand on my arm snaps me back to reality. They pull my gaze back in front of me, forcing me into the tiny glass room where a table and chair await me. I'm practically thrown into the room as they rip the badge from around my neck. That hurts too. They are telling me to sit and wait for someone to come speak to me. The door is slammed in my face. I rub my arms where they held me. I pull my jacket down around shoulders and see the red marks that are forming. Surely that will leave a bruise. Across the hall from me, the white bricks are my only friends. So I sit down in the chair and wait.

An hour later, I'm still waiting. Watching. Thinking. Did that really just happen? Did I really just see him with my own eyes? I keep thinking back to the look on his face as I passed. He looks different than the photo in his file. Mother never told me anything of his youth. She only said he was from Brooklyn. That's why she left. Left shield and the entire east coast. It was too painful for her to stay. I can't blame her.

The hall is quiet now. Except the occasional door slam. Maybe a laugh here or there. Footsteps fading away from me. I'm listening to the silence in between. It's so silent that it becomes deafening. I tap my fingers on the top of the table as my head rests in my other hand. The fact that I had just got caught was far from my mind until it was so quiet. Now what? What do I do? What do I say when begin questioning me? I'm sure that's what is coming next. They'll question me. Probably ask for my real ID, to which I will answer that I don't have one because I technically don't exist yet! Ugh. I bury my head between my folded arms on the table. I'm definitely SOL now.

I think I fell asleep. I haven't slept since I came here. I have nowhere to sleep. I don't have money for a motel. I only have my phone which won't work on the outdated phone towers that exist now. They must have took it too when I wasn't looking. It isn't in my pocket anymore. My fatigue got the best of me and now I'm sure I have line marks on my face from laying on my sleeves. Great. The loud voices are what jolted me awake. They laugh between each other. Then one of them says he's going to talk to the suspect. I guess he's talking about me. I'm a suspect now. I did break into a government building and look at top secret information. His steps are getting louder. He scans his pass and opened the door. Shuts it behind him as his opens a notebook and clicks his pen. I realize now there's no chair for him. But he just sits on the edge of table. His left side faces me as he writes something down. I try to see what he's writing but I can't read his chicken scratch.

"What's your name?" The first words anyone has spoken to me since I got here. To this time I mean.

"Maggie. Rogers." I say back.

He only stops briefly, but attributes my name to a mere coincidence. Surely. He writes this down.

"When's your birthday?"

"March fourth." I stop before telling him the year. I hope this is enough.

"What year?" he presses.

I couldn't give him the real year I was born which is 2020. He'd look at me like I was crazy or laugh in my face. As much as I hate to lie, I figure one little white lie won't hurt. If it is 2019 now, when would I have been born to be seventeen? I sit and figure in my head as he stares at me like I'm retarded. "2003," is what I finally say.

"Seventeen? You're terribly young to be breaking into such a high security building as Shield," he says, writing down my birthday. He writes more stuff down before he sits the pen down on the table. "How did you get the pass?"

Assuming this was my one opportunity to tell the truth, I simply answer, "I stole it."

"Well, here's what is going to happen. You're going to be transported to prison. Whether you are seventeen or thirty, you've committed a felony in the eyes of the law. So with that being said, a guard will be in here shortly to take you away."

"Prison?" I say. "Isn't that kind of harsh?"

"Stealing private government information is a serious crime."

"I didn't steal any government information!" I said, beginning to panic as he stands to walk back out of the door.

"You read it. You now possess that information. We can't just let you walk away." He's opening the door and I can hear my heart pound in my ears. No. No. This is all wrong. I wasn't supposed to get caught. I was supposed to get the information I needed so I could find my father. I wasn't supposed to be sent to prison! This can't be happening. Think. Think of a way out of this! He's standing in the open door about to shut it behind him when I do the last thing I expected at the last second. I stood up out of the chair and slammed my hands on the table loud enough to mimic a gunshot. I can't stop myself. He stops in his tracks.

"I have valuable information. I have valuable information that can affect the course of history as we know it."

"Really?" He steps back into the room with an almost mockingly happy face.

"Yes."

"Then what is it?" The man is asking me with a quizzical look, thinking that I don't have anything to give him. But I do. I do have information that can change the course of history. I'm sure I'll have a heart attack right here in the basement of the building, my pulse is so fast and I ask myself if I am sure I want to do this. But I have no choice.

"I will only speak to Captain Rogers."


End file.
